The Vampire's Lament
by Your Iron Lung
Summary: EDITED AND UPDATED!   Running into two jaded vampires in the middle of the night is...enlightening, to say the least; too bad they put thoughts into Conrads head he never wanted to acknowledge.
1. Chapter 1

The hunger that ravaged most newborn fledgling vampires was intense, and often times consumed vampires to the point of insanity, and yet Conrad still insisted on waiting as long as he could in a sort of test of endurance to see how long he _could_ last before succumbing to the unearthly hunger. He hated going to Worth's for various reasons, and he grumbled to himself about the unfairness of it all as he left his apartment yet again to make an appointment with the man and set out into the night.

He hated the transition as he made his way through the artsy part of town he lived in to the slummier bits, as everything went eerily still. No usual city-slick sounds intruded upon him, and he couldn't help but feel he was being watched.

Immediately, he put up his guard as best he could, afraid of who, or what, he'd run into. Rather, more specifically, he was frightened at the aspect of running into enemies of Adelaide who'd learned of his existence and come seeking his eradication for whatever reasons. Conrad hadn't yet had the opportunity (or the will) to try and figure out how to use his vampiric skills properly and remained in a constant state of vigilance.

And yet, he still very nearly jumped out of his skin when two oddly familiar faces appeared abruptly before him, having seemingly apparated from thin air as Conrad just about fell over from surprise.

"Oh fuckme, you came outta nowhere."

If his heart had still been beating, he was sure it would've gone out then. The taller of the pair grinned, showing his fangs as he shook his head, chuckling.

"Well well, lookie what we got here; Adelaide's pup out for a night on the town."

He made as if to give a kick, and Conrad visibly flinched, waiting and bracing himself for impact. It never came.

Scowling, Conrad leered at the other vampire as his ringing laughter reached his ears, bouncing off the walls of the alley and echoing around them. He noted that the dark skinned vampire's companion seemed to roll his eyes in obvious disapproval.

"What do you want?" Conrad managed to spit out once he'd composed himself, crossing his arms in indignation.

"Aw, what? I'm not allowed to drop in on a friend?" His grin was ever present, a hint of malice hidden beneath it as he spread his arms wide before him. Conrad scoffed.

"We're not friends."

Casimiro feigned a look of hurt, turning to look aghast at his partner before draping his arms over Finas and giving a sniffle, the shorter vampire shaking his head at his partners antics.

"Oh, Fin! He says we're not friends! Oh, boo-hoo, boo-hoo, boo. _Fucking_. Hoo." His joking nature diminished into complete seriousness in an instant, effectively putting Conrad further on edge. Casimiro turned a rigid face toward the young vampire, who, despite his apprehensive attitude, managed to stand his ground as the other advanced on him slowly. "And, who, exactly, _do_ you consider to be your friends then, hm? Surely not those pathetic mortal whelps you hang around with."

"Yea, well, so what if they are? Why should it matter to you who I call friend?" What it was, exactly, that had gotten Casimiro so riled up was beyond Conrad, and as he flicked his eyes nervously between the two older vampires, he caught the gaze of the shorter vampire. Finas, who stood back silently, offered neither support nor ill intent and was watching the ordeal with a solemn eye. Swallowing nervously out of habit, Conrad redirected his attention back to Cas.

Said vampire let out a sharp 'ha' at Conrad's words, backing away from the confused fledgling to shake his head, chuckling deeply.

"He thinks those freaks are his friends! Ha, he really thinks that!" he elbowed Finas, who inched away disapprovingly as Casimiro cackled away at some unspoken joke. "What a riot!"

Conrad watched this display with a frown, anger quickly rising as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on, but was too afraid to speak, lest he say something to further provoke the deranged vampire. Luckily, he didn't have to wait long before Casimiro began explaining.

"How do you think that's going to work out in the long run, huh? Really, I'm _dying_ to know."

"I don't- Did you come here just to mock me? I can't say that I'm finding this all that funny." Casimiro's question was vague, and he didn't know how to respond, and thus fell back onto his usual line of defense; bitching as much as possible about the situation at hand until the offender got tired and moved on. The half-blind man laughed and waved a hand, dismissing Conrad's statement.

"Don't flatter yourself, runt. Me 'n Fin were just on our way to lunch when we stumbled upon a lost wittle vampire. What'sa matter, lose your sense of direction along with your mortality? Nearest human hot-spot's the other way."

Ah. Conrad was going to have a field day trying to explain this one.

"Oh, er, no. I uh," he hesitated, fingering the high collared shirt that hid his puncture wounds out of nervous habit, trying hard to come up with a convincing lie. Story telling was not Mr. Achenlecks forté, however, and he ended up stuttering about nothing until Casimiro interrupted.

"Visiting a _friend_, or..." Casimiro's voice was smooth and calm as he crept back to the young artfag, his fingers outstretched like that of a spider to pull the collar of Conrad's fancy shirt down to inspect what lay beneath. The vampire's face fell into a thin line of disapproval as his eyes lay upon that which Conrad hid, tsking under his breath. "Mm, thought as much."

He felt as though a deadly secret had been exposed, and wished he had had the guts to bite someone so those gosh darn holes would go away; they were always causing problems, wherever he went.

Before Conrad could come up with an excuse as to why they were still there, Casimiro had slapped him hard clear across the face, a scowl on his own. Conrad could only stare in surprise, a hand rising to where he'd been slapped, as the Italian (or maybe he was a Spaniard) eyed him with disgust before returning to Finas' side.

"You're pathetic." He spat, eyeing him with disdain. "You think by honoring their lives they'll honor yours? How long do you think you can last like that by relying on that wacko 'friend' of yours who calls himself a doctor?"

Casimiro was obviously well past angry, but Conrad couldn't figure out why the other un-dead man should give a damn. They hardly interacted with each other, and it wasn't like he was a nuisance to the other by not drinking from a human. He found he was unable to speak however (still in shock from the slap he'd received prior), and opted for raising his brow in confusion instead. Cas scowled.

"You don't get it, do you? You honestly think you can get by by getting that bagged blood shit from the old hack? How old is he, do you know?"

"I-wh. I." he blanched. "What does Worth's _age_ have to do with anything?"

"Just humor me. Do. You. Know. How old he is. Yes, or no."

Frowning, Conrad shook his head and a smug look crept over Casimiro's face.

"He still doesn't get it. Ha, what an idiot." He made to elbow Finas again, but the shorter successfully evaded, giving him an evil look which Casimiro chose to tastfully ignore. "Alright kid, let's try this again. Where do you see yourself in 50, 60 years?"

"I dunno," he said slowly, eyeing the two vampires warily. "I guess I'd be around..."

"In your 80's, at least." Finas supplied.

"And you won't look a day over whatever the hell you are now." Casimiro said cheerfully, yet Conrad still failed to see the point.

"So?" he said, a frown creasing his features. "Isn't that part of being a vampire? Eternal life and preservation and all that?"

Casimiro looked on expectantly, waiting for Conrad to grasp the concept he'd been trying to get across, but received nothing more than a confused glare. Another sharp laugh erupted from his mouth as he turned to Finas in blatant disbelief.

"Fuck, Christ, he _still_ doesn't get it! How dense can you be?" He barreled over onto his shorter counterpart, laughing manically as he clutched at his stomach for air he didn't need. Some human habits never died.

If Conrad had any blood in him, it would have been flushing to his face as he stood in embarrassment, watching the taller vampire laugh at his apparent ignorance. Finas gave him an apologetic look on behalf of his estranged friend, but made no move to shut him up.

"The fuck is so funny?"

"_You_. You don't fucking _get it_, kid!" he stood up straight, smoothing out his jacket as his laughter quietly ebbed away. "You, you fucking _refuse_ to feed on humans and rely on a two-bit hack who looks like he could drop dead at any minute for food! You truly are the worst vampire I have ever seen; I can't believe Adelaide sired you!"

He paused to look at Conrad's face with a smirk before he continued.

"One day you're gonna wake up and realize a hundred years have gone by, and you won't have aged a wink. You really expect your 'friends' to do the same? You'll get older, and you'll stay the same, but your friends? No, they'll get old and wrinkly and **die**. You really think they're gonna last forever like you? No, my friend. You'll live forever, but they'll keep getting older and older till they end up six feet under. They won't carry on like you."

It took a minute for Casimiro's little speech to sink in, but when it did Conrad felt his whole body go numb in cold realization of what the maddened vampire had said. He'd never thought about that before, oh God, he'd never bothered to even _think_ about the repercussions of what being a vampire had besides having to rob people of their lives. What Casimiro had said was absolutely true; Hanna, Veser, Toni, and even Worth could all be gone one day, and what then? What would become of him? How would he cope? He stared unseeing before him as an odd, unpleasant sensation crept through his body.

A dry laugh came from the tall vampire as he leaned against the brick wall, watching Conrad's reaction with a slightly amused look.

"_Now_ you understand. Humans are no good, kid; they're just gonna up and die. And this little blood exchange you got going on with your dropout friend? Gonna haveta end; obviously can't rely on him forever, you're actually gonna have to start _killing_ people. Your lifeline will be gone."

"I-" his mouth was dry and it felt like it'd been stuffed with cotton. He was still dazed, trying to imagine life without that little ragtag group he'd come to appreciate. It was impossible; it _hurt_ to think that he'd continue living long after they'd died. He stared at the two other vampires with wide, vulnerable eyes, and this seemed to satisfy Cas, but he wasn't done giving the young vampire a reality check quite yet.

"And if you think for a _second_ that they'll wanna live forever like you do, you can forget about it. They'd rather get old and die and fucking start families or some shit than be a monster like you. Immortality is great, but not for them. Fine for you, not for them. Oh, and the best part? You get to watch it all go down.

"It'll start off slow; they'll tire out more quickly, and then they'll start complaining about aches and pains you'll never get to feel. Or maybe they'll take up _smoking_ and speed the whole process up. After they reach about age 30, it's alllllll downhill for them. Which brings me back to this; just _how old is your doctor friend_?"

Conrad's mouth was frozen wide in a silent 'o' as the implications became clear. The human lifespan was short, especially compared to his, and with Worth's crazy lifestyle, he could literally be gone any day now, and where would that leave him? Hanna? Anyone?

Casimiro's smug look was resting on his face once again as he watched the young vampire grapple with the cold facts of his new life. Finas looked almost sympathetic to Conrad's plight, and when the taller of the two opened his mouth to speak again, he promptly smacked his partner in the stomach and gave him a sharp glare that said he'd done enough. And really, he had. One look at Conrad and anyone could tell he was absolutely crushed.

And then, Conrad was running, putting distance between him and the two vampires who'd managed to pull the rug out from under his new life as fast as he could. He was pained and confused, angry and frightened as he ran, his mind a turbulent whirlwind of thoughts he didn't want to acknowledge. Casmirio's haunting laugh was ringing around in his head, mocking him as he moved through the alleys to some destination he wasn't completely aware of. He didn't know where he was going, he just knew he had to get away before they decided to reveal more horrors of his unnatural life.

It was all unfair, everything that was happening to him was so far out of his control it was, well, yea. Unfair. All he wanted was to live a semi-normal life, but ever since that night with Adelaide and Hanna, his life was just one big mess after the other, and there wasn't anything he could do about it. He tripped over something, and he went crashing to the ground with a strangled cry. Conrad tried to get up, he really did, but found that he didn't have the energy for it and resigned to simply lay against the ground as everything caught up to him. His mind was clouded with thought and emotion and he didn't think he ever wanted to get up, even if that meant having to wait until the sun came and reduced him to ashes. What was the point if everyone he knew was just going to end up in a hole in the ground someday?

And as long as he was alive, all the humans he'd _ever_ get to know would ultimately meet the same fate; as long as he kept living it'd be a never ending chain of getting to know people only to have to watch them die. What kind of life was that? Who in their right mind would possibly want to go through all that pain and heartache? He wondered briefly as he lay there against the cold ground how Fin and Cas dealt with it. He sighed and curled up into himself, a heavy cloud of melancholy and overall depression hovering over him. As if his life hadn't been fucked up enough; now this.

Conrad was so absorbed in thought he didn't realize who's alley he was curled up in until the very distinct voice of a well-known doctor friend washed over him.

"What in the hell're y' doing, ya fag?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Well? The fuck're y' doin' banging around out here?" The doctor sneered down at Conrad's crumpled form angrily. Clearly upset to have been bothered enough to get up and leave his office to investigate the disturbance only to see the soddy mess of a vampire before him, Worth grumbled and kicked at Conrad's shoulder in irritation. "Hell, thought y' were Lamont; was all ready t' chew th' bastard out fer droppin' my shit."

Conrad could only stare up at him in mute, dumb confoundment as Worth glowered down at him, cigarette dangling limply in his lips. The vampire hadn't even been aware he'd run into Worth's alley. To say he was confused was an understatement; why on earth would his own two feet have dragged him to a man he could hardly stand under normal circumstances, let alone now in his emotionally turbulent state? It was beyond him as he stared, fixated on the smoldering bud perched between overly chapped lips. The skin was dry, flaking like gross diseased snowflakes. He was staring. He couldn't help it.

_'This ain't right'_, Worth reasoned, scowling and nudging at Conrad's shoulder with his foot once more. To be honest, he expected an 'Urgh, Worth, that's your foot getitoff! These are _dry clean only_ you butt-wipe!' or some equally weak retort, but all he got in turn was a dull, glassy-eyed stare. Confused, he crouched down to get a good look at the vampire, prepared to put his good doctoring skills to the test. If he could bring Hanna back from the clutches of death itself, then by all means he could fix this wreck.

"Oy, faggot, I asked y' a question."

He outstretched his hand, letting the back of it lay flat against Conrad's forehead briefly before he tch'd and drew it back. Cold as ice; should've known. Conrad blinked groggily, shaking his head slightly as he watched Worth's movements through a haze from which he couldn't seem to rouse himself. The grungy doctor reached in to peel back one of the vampire's eyelids, leaning in close to examine them before tch-ing again and sitting back on his haunches. Worth seemed to be in quite a pickle. He scowled, leering angrily at Conrad, not entirely sure of how he should proceed. In all good judgement, he couldn't very well leave the idiot out here (who knew what sorta shit the stupid no-good faggot would attract), and yet Worth was drawing a blank as to what he should do next. He knew how to deal with living patients alright, but in regards to those who weren't quite alive, well, he was stumped.

"Forgot y' were dead."

The rough, puzzled voice and seemingly concerned motions of a man looking out for his well-being when Conrad knew very well that that was against that man's nature seemed to draw him out of his shock. Upon realizing what was going on, and figuring out just where he was and who was prodding at him, he snapped his eyes open wide with attention, leaping to his feet abruptly with a speed he hadn't known he could muster. The movement caught Worth by surprise, effectively knocking him onto his rear as Conrad towered over him, an estranged look in his eye.

Before Worth could even open his mouth to splurt out a 'goddamn what in the _hell_ is wrong with you you goddamn queer', a panicked look ran across Conrad's face. The cigarette he'd been so transfixed with before was still lit and burning, smoldering away minutes, possibly years, of this man's life, and Worth wasn't doing a god damn thing about it! Without hesitation, he reached down and snatched away the cigarette in Worth's mouth, tossing it away carelessly before the doctor could protest.

"What in the fuck-"

"You're going to die." Conrad blurted out, eyes wide and crazed as he scanned Worth's worn face, assessing the damage the years had already done to him with a dreaded fear of knowing more were to come. He felt his stomach drop a little with every wrinkle, every line he saw, and found he was a little more than unnerved by such a strange, emotionally based fear.

Worth's shock faded into a dark scowl of confusion melted with anger as he got back to his feet, brushing himself off as he stepped away from Conrad to fix him with a suspiciously wary look, unsure of what the vampire meant as he fixed an accusing stare on the whelp.

"The fuck're y' on about? Finally get up the nerve t' do away with me, y' little fag?" he almost laughed, but the look that flit across Conrad's face had him arching his brows in confusion instead.

"I mean- fuck, you're going to die." Conrad backed off, drawing a shaky sigh and running a hand across his face and through his hair, trying to come to his senses to explain his distress to Worth properly.

He felt miserable, a sinking feeling overcoming him as he found he couldn't find the right words to adequately explain the futility of life to the doctor. Various noises of frustration escaped his mouth as he clenched and gestured about uselessly with his hands, drawing a confused, yet amused look from Worth.

"What's all this then?" Worth said, mimicking some of Conrad's more grand gestures. "Y'know I ain't deaf're nothin', right?"

Conrad screwed up his face, prepared to launch himself into a customary retort that would lead up to one of their frequent, hot-headed arguments he abhorred so much. He wound himself up, felt that familiar anger brewing in his chest, clenched his fists, and even got so far as to open his mouth to begin verbally accosting the man, when he fell short. Conrad found no words of anger or hate wanted to come vomiting up his throat like they usually did, and frowned, slowly shutting his mouth to give Worth a look of absolute apathy.

Worth himself was beyond confused, having no idea what the fuck Conrad was even doing in his alley, let alone to be talking about death and shit. It was unnerving and he felt uncomfortable in a way he hadn't felt in years and wanted nothing more than to just lash out and tell the vampire off. But he knew better; it was obvious that Conrad was nearly out of his mind with grief about _something_, and if Worth pushed him too far he might just snap for real. But wouldn't that be a sight? At any rate, he could do now was stare, that smug smirk slowly fading from his face as he realized that Conrad simply wasn't in the mood for his kind of depreciating bullshit.

And then, well, he really had no idea what to do.

He wasn't at the top of the list for the most comforting people in the world, and almost felt awkward standing in that silent alley with the upset vampire. What was he supposed to do? Invite him in for tea and crumpets so he could console this...whatever it was that was going on with him? Like hell; Worth might've hung around the the queerest fags known to man, but he'd be damned if he was going to act like one to keep in their company.

"You uh, look like y' could use a drink." He managed at last, floundering a bit.

"Can't drink anymore you, ass-hat." Conrad said with a half-scowl, the angry sentiment obviously being forced through his uncharacteristically downtrodden expression. The pale man refused eye contact, staring instead at a fat rat burrowing through one of the many piles of trash that had accumulated outside Worth's office.

"Oh, right. Forgot y' were a-"

"Vampire." Conrad finished with a sigh, a pained look creasing his features. Fuck, the kid looked like he was about to have another breakdown, tears and all this time.

Worth sighed and looked around, making sure there were no witnesses to be had as he held the door to his office open, glaring at Conrad and gesturing with his head to get in there.

"Well c'mon then, don' want y' scarin' away all my damn rats y' queer."

If Conrad hadn't been in such a funk, perhaps he'd have looked surprised or at least half skeptical, but all he seemed to conjure up was a scowl and a beady little stare. He didn't refuse the offer, though, and silently made his way into the familiar man's familiar office, taking in the mess of it all as Worth shut the door behind them.

The man in the fur-trimmed coat brushed past him and gave him an odd, unreadable look as he approached the fridge he kept his blood in, opening it and offering up one of the packets to the troubled young vampire.

Conrad shook his head; no thanks, none for me- I'm squeamish, you see, and I'm afraid that that would make me sick. Haha, if only. Worth shrugged and tossed the pouch back into the confines of the fridge before making his way to that rickety old wheelie chair behind his desk and peering at the vampire with a scowl.

"Well? Y' gonna tell me what the fucks got y' so worked up or y' just gonna stand there 'n play statue?"

Worth didn't have patience for this, and if Conrad wanted to take up his offer to talk about whatever the hell it was that was bugging him then he'd have to do it quick; no long, woe-is-me, pleasantries. It was always straight to the point as far as Worth was concerned.

However, that was not how Conrad ran his pity parties, and instead of indulging that straightforward way of doing things as Worth was accustomed, he sighed and frowned, letting his shoulders slump forward as he found one of those fold-out chairs the doctor kept around.

Worth rolled his eyes at the melodramatics but allowed the vampire time to get his thoughts in order properly before he started bitching about how big a pansy the queer yuppie was being.

"Um..." Now that he was given the time and opportunity to properly begin explaining, he found he couldn't quite figure out how to say what Casimiro had so easily made clear to him. "It's just... You're going to die."

"Yea, so?" Worth scowled, assessing Conrad from across his desk with a sort of incredulous look. "Everythin' dies, Connie; that's a fact. That can't seriously be whats got yer knickers in a twist."

"Well, no. I mean, yes- no, look, it's just that you and everyone are going to fucking die and then what? What about me?" Finally, it seemed as though his mind decided to play ball in his favor and throw out all those depressing thoughts mulling around in his head he hadn't been able to lay out before. "I'm not going to die; in fact, I _can't_ die! And you, and Hanna and all the rest of them will and what then! What about me?"

Worth was surprised; in all honesty he'd thought Conrad was having another one of those odd guilt trips about having to bite people to get sustenance. If the vampire weren't so upset about it, Worth would've laughed; a vampire, a being who feasted and thrived on depriving others of life, was actually _upset_ about not being able to die. Well wasn't that just peachy.

"Y' prolly shoulda thought about that _before_ y' joined Lestat's posse." He chided, a small smirk gracing his ragged face.

Conrad, on the other hand, didn't appreciate the humor and gaped, glaring at the doctor.

"Like I had a fucking choice! This wasn't my goddamn idea, you douche nugget! This is all Hanna's fault, asshole! This never would've happened if it weren't for him!" He was breathing hard despite the fact that he no longer needed to, and hadn't noticed it, but felt his hands clenched tight against him- anger and frustration transferring into hard fists before he could even think of what it was he was saying, let alone implying.

"How th' fuck's this all Hana's fault?" Worth said, frowning. It was then that Conrad had to remind himself that Worth didn't know the details about how he'd come to be a part of the living dead, just that he was.

He sighed. Of course Worth wouldn't know that this predicament he'd been landed in was the result of one of Hanna's numerous mistakes. Worth only knew that he'd already been at Hanna's heels as a walking incarnate of gothic fiction when he'd popped by to get a fix-me-up; he hadn't known that it was his first night as part of the supernatural. If he had, he'd probably have given him a helluva lot more grief about it.

His psychiatrists and various anger management teachers had always instructed him to breathe deeply when he became rattled, and though he doubted it'd help, he tried it anyway.

In, and out.

Slow, steady, rhythmic breathing; something constant, something there. He visibly relaxed as his hands uncurled, dark creases in his skin from where his nails had dug crescent-like markings into his palm.

Now that he thought about it, blaming all this on Hanna wasn't entirely fair; it hadn't been his fault, not really. There was no way in hell any of them could've predicted that the vampire was going to attack him, and even then it had been an idiotic move on _his_ behalf for even thinking he could take her. He'd never been much of a fighter to begin with, so God only knows why he decided to start by taking on a vampire, of all things.

And really, what else could Hanna have done in that situation? The boy-man had probably been rattled and upset beyond belief to have seen him lying there dead, his body devoid of blood. Hanna had only been trying to keep his client from dying, even if it did have outrageous repercussions. Being alive, even if it was in a perverted form, was something he should've been appreciating instead of belittling.

"Nevermind; just, look- aren't you like, afraid or anything?" As many times as he'd mentioned the prospect of death and the possibility that Worth was going to die, the Aussie hadn't really offered up any response to it other than to ask him what the hell was going through his head. Didn't most people react negatively when confronted with that topic of conversation? Then again, Worth wasn't like most people.

As expected, Worth just looked confused, or agitated.

"'fraid'a what?"

Conrad let out a frustrated sigh and rolled his hand around as if that'd clear things up, unwilling to actually say what it was he meant, almost as if he was afraid of the word and the meaning behind it. Worth just shook his head and sneered uncomprehendingly, copying the movement with a 'the fuck does this mean' look.

The pale man sighed and bit the inside of his cheek, averting the doctor's gaze as he spoke:

"Of dying."

It was said quietly, his voice rising barely above a sighed whisper as he frowned. Even though it was barely spoken, he felt it held the force and weight of a bomb, dropping into the conversation roughly and effectively putting an end to Worth's foolish, taunting shenanigans.

At first the blonde stared, judging the vampire's worn out expression before deciding that this was not the time or place to mess to continue messing around; where was the fun if the queer wasn't up to par? Unfortunately it seemed this was a time to be serious and thoughtful, and though he didn't particularly excel well at either, the least he could do was try. He let out a low grunt, slouching back into his chair.

Instead of tapping into his reserve of cynicism that he usually kept for when Conrad came around, he decided to contemplate the question set before him. _Was_ he afraid of dying? Surely not, for if he was, there was no conceivable way he would've put himself through half the self-destructive shit he seemed to enjoy doing. If he was scared of dying, than he'd be a lot more conservative, certainly. So, no then, right?

"Naw, I ain't frightened'a dyin'. Any time'll do, I don' mind; can't sit around worryin' about it all th' damn time. And anyway, why _should_ I be 'fraid'a dyin'?" He began slowly, keeping a steady eye on Conrad. "'s no reason for it. Everyone's gotta go sometime."

"Yea, but-"

"'s just something you gotta come t' accept." He interjected, cutting off Conrad's interruption curtly. "Y' can't live in fear'a death or- wait, yer already dead, so, wait. The fuck're you on about? All this talk about bein' scared'a death shouldn't apply t' you."

Conrad frowned, twisting up his face as his inner turmoil shined through.

"I'm not- well, I mean, I am- no, I. Fuck." He leant forward, resting his elbows on his thighs as he worked his hands through his hair. "I don't know. How can I be afraid of death if I've already died? It's more like...like I'm terrified of the people I know dying because I know I won't. I'm afraid of _being_ dead? I don't know."

Worth sat in silence for a while, mulling over what Conrad said before fumbling around in his jacket's pocket. If he was going to keep up this serious line of conversation, then dammit he needed something to help him keep focus, and a cigarette seemed to do the job for him just fine. As he lit it, Conrad glanced up and sighed.

"I wish you wouldn't."

"Were y' afraid'a death _before_ y' died?" Worth said, ignoring Conrad to take a long drag, breathing out the smoke as the calming nicotine ran its course. Contrary to popular belief, there were times, though not many, when Worth could actually be bothered to hold back his sharp tongue to hold a meaningful conversation. Lamont could testify to that, though he probably wouldn't.

The young vampire opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, eyebrows furrowed together as he thought. _Had_ he been? He really couldn't be sure. While he was alive there had been so many other things to think and worry about in his life (his various psychological issues, dealing with his mother; etc.) that he hadn't really been able to give dying much thought till he'd been bled dry and left to knock on death's door. It had all happened in an instant; he really couldn't be sure that what he felt had been fear, so much as idiocy. If he remembered correctly, he'd felt like the worlds biggest fool to have been done in by something that should've only existed in cheap, trashy novels. Not really _afraid_, rather, remorseful that he'd been killed so easily. Like it'd been nothing.

"Not really." He mused with a sad frown. "I didn't have time to be afraid."

"Good." Worth commented, taking another drag before leaning forward over his desk. "Like I said before, y' can't go livin' yer life in fear'a somethin' that y' got no control over."

"I guess." Conrad watched as Worth smoked, the cancerous fumes entering and exiting the body in an almost graceful manner. Smoke was beautiful, truly; the way it gracefully curled into the air was majestic, and it was truly tragic that such a lovely thing caused so many problems. He enjoyed drawing and illustrating the swirls and curls, but he found he didn't particularly care for it when someone he even remotely cared about was inhaling all those toxins. "But that's not what I'm talking about. Like I said, _I'm_ not afraid of death, just of other people dying."

"Why?"

"Because unlike you I actually _care_ about some of the people I know." He said, scowling as Worth laughed a bit, half expecting the man to bite out some smart remark about how caring for people was what great big queerosexuals did, but as soon as that small bout of laughter died down Worth just shook his head, and the two faded into silence.

"You know smoking is only speeding up the process."

The doctor grinned and rested back in his creaky chair, staring up at the ceiling and blowing grand smoke rings.

"Yea. But if I enjoy it then I don't give a damn. Can't live when yer thinkin' about all th' regrets yer gonna have at th' end."

"It's not the end of the journey that matters, it's how you get there." Conrad mumbled quietly to himself, slouching back and closing his eyes.

"Wut?"

"Nothing."

Another silence overcame them as they each worked their way through their own respective thoughts, picking and pulling to try and find something to work with. For Worth, it wasn't something he'd thought much about, and even when he had, it was only brief, fleeting things about what would happen should he die. Not so much about what to do when he was finally confronted with that bony masked messenger of death. And Conrad, oh Conrad had a lot on his plate. Immortality, the lifetimes of unhappiness that waited for him, and all the joys of having to watch his friends cease to be.

"Y' inta Tarot?"

"What?" He blinked, looked at Worth, and stared. Tarot?

"That uh, future seeing with cards 'n shit. Y' know it?"

Conrad would never in his wildest imagination have pegged Worth to be into psychic stuff like that, and apparently his disbelief showed through. The man scowled and waved off Conrad's incredulous face.

"Don' gimme tha' look; 'mont deals with some magic Tarot lady 'n tells me all sortsa useless shit about it; can't get 'im t' shutup. Anyway, y' familiar with it're not?"

"Uh, yea, I guess." To some degree.

"Then y'd be familiar with th' death card, then, right?"

"Well, yea. It's not an unpopular card; represents, well, death."

"Not always." Worth said, kicking up his feet and relaxing back, letting his chair creak at a dangerous angle. Conrad was sure that that chair was going to snap one day- the spine of it looked like it was made of toothpicks. (Heh, maybe that'd be the end of Worth; one day he'd just lean so far back and it'd break, along with his neck, and- wait, no, that wasn't funny at all. Yes it was.). "'ccording t' Lamont and his gay-ass Tarot ways, it's gotta couple'a diffr'ent meanings."

"And?"

"_And_," Worth went on, rolling his eyes. "C'n also mean like, change. Transfermation. Th' ending of one thing and th' start of somethin' new."

"Okay?" Conrad wasn't entirely sure where Worth was going with this, and to be frank, it was a little weird to see Worth this frank and serious, though he appreciated it deep down.

Worth shook his head.

"Don't y' get it? It means tha' sometimes th' change y' gotta go through ain't all bad."

"Are you kidding me? Did you _not_ just hear me tell you how awful it was to have to go through all this shit? And you're sitting there telling me that 'it ain't all bad." He mimicked, his anger quickly coming to surface again. Worth kept calm, however, letting Conrad work through his frustrations before taking one last hit off his cigarette and tossing it aside.

"Life goes on long after th' thrill of livin' is gone, Connie." Conrad's anger switched to confusion as he stared at the Doc who was already scrounging around for a second cig. "Y' ever hear that song, Connie?"

"I uh, don't think so."

"Jack and Diane. By that John Cougar-Mellancamp fella." He withdrew his pack and picked out another cigarette, scowling as he realized it was his last. "_Oh yea, they say life goes on, long after th' thrill of livin' is gone_."

Worth continued humming the tune as he let Conrad think about it, lighting up his second smoke and giving it a lengthy huff.

The lyric Worth sung out in his rough, gravely voice was pretty straightforward when he thought about it. It stated that even if all the things that you looked forward to or brought you excitement in life were gone or taken away, it'd still go on. Whether you wanted it to or not, things kept moving and you could either grow up and deal with it or get left behind. Though the tune seemed cheery enough, the lyric itself seemed rather drab and depressing, and not at all encouraging in his situation.

"That doesn't help." He said with a dry sigh, removing his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose in heavy resignation.

"Didn' say it would." Doc murmured, blowing lazy smoke rings. "Jus' thought it'd give y' a little more understandin'. Y' can't change what 'appened, 'n y' can't change yer situation. All y' can possibly do now is jus' learn t' accept it 'n move on."

"But..._everyone_ I kno-"

"Cut that out." Worth snapped, giving him a sidelong glare. He held his gaze for a minute before returning to blowing smoke rings, relaxing back into his chair. "If yer so g'damn scared'a that then leave."

"Leave?"

"Did I fuckin' stutter?" Conrad gave him a reproachful stare. "Yea, leave. Pack up 'n move."

"I don't get it."

Worth grinned as he took another hard puff, swiveling back around to face him, his yellowish teeth gleaming. "Oh, so the great college graduate can't understand what the drop-outs talkin' 'bout."

"Are you going to tell me or not." Ignore the bait. Just ignore it.

Realizing that Conrad wasn't rising to the occasion and this melodramatic conversation suitable for cotton headed ninny-muggins was going to continue, Worth sighed and rolled back around.

"Yea. Like tha' one chick from tha' one movie did."

"You'll have to be more specific, please."

"I was getting' t' it." Worth scolded, blowing a large ring in thought. "Th' school teacher lady from uh, Butch Cassidy 'n th' Sundance Kid. Y' ever see that movie?"

"Once. I'm not into Westerns though, so I can't say that I enjoyed it." Worth was just full of surprises today; first he showed a serious side, then the partial interest in tarot, and now westerns. The apocalypse was upon them. "Again, why?"

"'cause yer actin' like the g'damn school mistress. She wanted t' come with 'em, even though she'd more'n likely complain th' whole way. Sundance told her she couldn't unless she quit her whinin' 'n bitchin'. So she said she would, 'n she'd fix 'em up when they were wounded 'n cook 'em dinner 'n all that good stuff, but th' one thing she said she wouldn't do was sit around 'n watch 'em die."

Conrad sat silent, contemplating the words before opening his mouth to speak, but Worth beat him to it.

"She said she'd miss that scene, iffin' they didn't mind. And she did; she ditched 'em 'fore they died 'cuz she couldn't stand t' see 'em go, and if _yer_ so chocked up 'bout us bitin' th' dust then y' should prolly follow her lead."

He had to pause and scan his brain for the memory, but he found he did remember it with stunning clarity. It was a touching moment, and Conrad could appreciate it even though he hadn't enjoyed most the rest of the movie.

That scene where they were lying awake in the dark, fire crackling somewhere off to the side was memorable enough. She'd looked at the two men she loved most in the world and told them she wanted to go back. It was tragic. She'd felt their end was coming near as their luck began to run dry and she knew nothing good would come from hanging around, even if they refused to believe her. So she'd left, and they'd died tragically; but she never had to know. As far as she was concerned, she could keep on believing that they were living peacefully and robbing banks left and right like they'd always done, ignoring the obvious fact that they'd been cornered and gunned down by the Mexican military.

Worth was eyeing him as he put his glasses back on, seeing if Conrad was grasping the meaning behind his words and examples. And yes, Conrad realized that most, if not all of what Worth said had made a great amount of sense. If he just sat back and accepted things as they were, and took life as it came, then he'd be able to accept the harder things that were thrown at him.

Gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em; know when to walk away, and know when to run. Or so the song goes.

"That makes sense, but how would I just...leave. I mean, I'd like to think someone, _anyone_, would be upset by my just up and going."

"Hanna'd understand." Worth said quietly, his attention redirected back to the ceiling where his smoke was accumulating. "He may seem an idiot, but he'd understand. 'nd anyway, 's not like y' gotta worry about it _now_.

"Y' can go 'n live out th' rest of this timeline peacefully till we all start getting' older, then y' split an' start over. 's not hard." It was obvious he was speaking from personal experience, perhaps referring to the time he'd left home without a trace. "Y' may 'notta chosen t' be a bloodsucker, but fact is that's what y' are, an' y' can't keep running from it like a goddamn fairy princess; 's time to own up and know what y' are and learn how to deal with it 'fore it ends up too big a thing t' handle."

His voice was stern and even, almost fatherly in some twisted fashion.

"Yea, I guess. Why do you make this all sound so easy?"

Worth shrugged and went back to smoking, noting dully that the light was getting close to the filter, signaling the end of this stick. Dammit, he'd have to go out and pick up another pack of smokes soon, but he couldn't very well trust to leave Conrad alone here.

"'cause I ain't a' emotional faggot." With one last puff he tossed the finished cigarette away, grunting and pushing himself to his feet. "Y' made me smoke through m' stash; gotta go get more."

"Ok."

The doctor eyed him warily, unsure of whether or not the vampire would be alright on his own. Considering when he'd first stumbled upon the wrecked mess of a man, Conrad looked decisively better. His face wasn't quite as drawn, and he almost looked relaxed. A lot better than when they'd began this emotional dump of a conversation.

"Y' gonna be alright?"

"Yea, yea." Conrad said, standing to his feet. "I think I'm going to head out after I get some blood, though, so I won't be here when you get back."

Worth shrugged. "Help yerself, jus' don't leave me dry."

"Whatever." He said, moving to the fridge, beginning to shift through its contents. The scruffy blonde man shrugged and adjusted his coat, heading for the door as he began his journey to get more cigarettes, when Conrad called him back. "Oh, uh. Worth."

The doctor stopped and let out an agitated sigh, turning back to glare.

"Whatt'ya need now, Confag? I got shit t' do."

"Shut up. Just, you know. Thanks. For all that."

Worth rolled his eyes and shook his head before turning back and stepping through the door.

"Wutever, queer."


End file.
